Brushing my wife’s hair over her shoulder, I kiss her neck and whisper in her ear, “Will you be all right?”
She gives me a small smile. “Sure.”
I take the tray and, with a last glance at Violet, make my way to a big table under an oak tree where Damian and Josh are setting out drinks.
“Here you go,” Damian says, handing Josh a glass of water as I reach them.
“Thank you, Daddy,” Josh says, thirstily gulping down the water.
When he leaves the glass on the table and runs off to the edge of the water, I say, “You’re good with him.”
Damian shoves his hands in his pockets and stares after the boy who takes grains from a bucket hanging on a hook by the jetty and scatters them over the water. A few ducks appear from the reeds that form an island in the middle of the river to gobble up the grains and dive after the food.
“He’s a great kid,” Damian says, not taking his eyes off Josh.
I frown, my body tensing as I imagine him falling from the steep embankment into the river. “Can he swim?”
A rare smile curves Damian’s lips. “He’s like a fish in the water.”
I relax somewhat. “What about Josie? You’re going to have to lock her up when she starts walking.”
“Lina is already taking her to baby swimming lessons, but our children are never unsupervised. We have a nanny for when both Lina and I are busy.”
“You seem to have it well worked out.”
Keeping an eye on Josh, he unscrews the lid of the mason jar. “Ginger beer? There’s normal beer as well, or lemonade, if you prefer.”
“Ginger beer sounds good.”
I watch the water as he pours the drink. Despite his reassurance, I don’t like letting Josh out of my sight.
“Thanks,” I say when he hands me a glass.
After he’s poured one for himself, we walk to the edge of the water. I breathe easier being closer to Josh, who’s still feeding the ducks.
A luxury motorized boat is parked in the boathouse while a smaller rowing boat is tied to the jetty. Lounge chairs facing west to benefit from the sunset stands on a deck that’s covered with a thatch roof at the end of the jetty.
“How’s the illegal programming going?” he asks, watching Josh.
Keeping my demeanor indifferent, I say, “Good.”
“Have you made the big announcement?”
I take a swallow of my drink. “Yup.” The beer is yeasty. The spicy zest is refreshing.
“When’s the big day of becoming an official Starley shareholder?”
“I’m working on it,” I reply evasively.
“How’s married life treating you?”
“Great.”
“No more solo bar excursions?”
“It happened once,” I grit out.
“I’m not preaching.” He looks at me. “I’m just worried about Violet. She seems like a nice woman.”
I clench my teeth. “You don’t have to worry about my wife. I know how to take care of her.”
“Good.”
Josh abandons feeding the ducks. He runs into the boathouse and exits with a bike.
“Have you heard from Ian?” Damian asks.
“Not since we last talked.”
“Cas will need a medical checkup soon.”
He’s referring to her chronic heart condition. “Ian won’t smuggle her into the country.” I know my brother and how he operates. “He’ll fly a doctor out to the farm.”
He’s quiet as he considers that, both of us observing Josh who’s riding in circles on the lawn.
“Are you going to tell her?” he asks, turning an inquisitive gaze on me as he brings the glass to his lips.
The question is posed casually, but the meaning is loaded. To the rest of the world, Ian is dead. Damian carefully staged his death to organize his escape from prison. Can I let my wife in on that secret?
“I don’t know,” I say honestly.
“If you don’t know, the question you should be asking yourself is if you trust her enough with the truth.”
That answer is easy. No. Yes, I decided to give her the benefit of the doubt where my property and my feelings are concerned, but I don’t trust Violet with that kind of truth yet. I guess trust isn’t black and white for us. In our case, it’s shitloads of gray.